Any feeling of compassion, or pity, which I might have held for de La Zouche and his henchmen had evaporated when Annette died. I was not seething wit... red hot rage but instead was consumed by a marble cold, malignant, murderous fury. I had ceased to be human; I was Death, and the horse I rode was pale.The Golden Lion was a much larger building than I had expected. It rose two stories from the river bank, where several barges were tied up by a jetty. I could hear the sounds of a Bacchanalian. "He's about half what he was," she said with a laugh. "You can have him if you want."Margy nodded and jumped on the bed, straddling me. Sally kissed me and left, smacking her friend's rump as she did. "You may be sorry," she said as the younger girl began to ease herself down on the fat spear I held up between her smooth thighs. It was half-hard already.She gritted her teeth and took it in, tight and wet as she was, and I let her set the pace, holding her hips and helping her rut. It was a very. More

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